Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
I had summoned to the palace all those who had served as council to Queen Una, as well as a select number of younger fae recommended to me by Lileas. I trusted her judgment better than I trusted my own.
Both my mothers likely died by foul play. It gnawed at me inside, while I struggled to maintain my veneer of calm.
Outside, the rain had turned to hail.
I waited in the hall outside the council chamber, dressed in a gown of pale green, the branched crown heavy upon my coiled hair.
About my shoulders, Lileas had draped a rich cloak of green velvet, with lining of the softest ermine within.
I breathed deep and rubbed my rose torc, missing the warm flesh of the birthmark that bloomed there once.
I missed being invisible and flawed and not responsible for anything but my not-mother’s health, and whatever else my conscience might dictate.
Where I stood now, my conscience seemed a foolish mortal liability. I truly ought to leave it behind.
“Your Grace, Your Grace!” Lileas came running down the hall, breathless, cheeks becomingly flushed.
I smiled to see her. “Have you come to accompany me? I could use your advice in there.”
She shook her head. “Nay. Lyel will go there, not I. I am a mere servant, after all.”
I frowned at that. A chatelaine was a position of no small status or responsibility, certainly worthy to be at my side whenever I wished. I could not abolish the feeling she and her kinsman avoided being in the same place at the same time.
She undid the clasp of my cloak. “I realized I had put your cloak on the wrong side out. Allow me to fix it.” Deftly she flipped the cloak around, so the ermine faced outwards.
I stared at her in surprise. Surely the velvet was meant to be on the outside, and the ermine next to my skin? Mayhap this seemed more regal to her.
“Much better,” Lileas said, patting clumsily at my shoulders while she stared through me as if I weren’t there. ’Twas very peculiar indeed.
I shook my head and entered the council chamber.
Here the carpet of grass spread rich as velvet and the ceiling appeared open to the sky.
I knew this for glamour only, for the dome of this sky glinted with stars and the moon, which in Faery I had never seen.
Likewise, there seemed to be no walls, only the thriving wildness of the gardens, and trees vaulted upwards, branches forming archways above.
Walls there were, though invisible to the eye. Walls of privacy and silence, and most importantly safety, for none could bring their weapons into this sacred place.
The walls would keep out the storm, except the one ever raging inside me, a swirling whirlpool of confusion and doubt.
A group of handsome Aos Sith gathered around the table in the center of the room, conversing among themselves. They did not even bother to look up as I entered.
“The weather we are having,” said a green-skinned elder fae to his neighbor. “Never before has Faery known such storms and unrest.”
“You are right, of course, Lord Mossgrow, but never before have we been privy to the whims and weaknesses of a half-mortal queen,” muttered his companion, a beautiful young Aos Sith with golden skin and silvery hair.
With a start, I recognized him: the young lord who had asked me to dance the night before.
“So emotional and high-strung these mayflies are. It is beneath us all to be subject to their frailties and folly.”
Nervous laughter went up among the Aos Sith. Some of them looked as shocked as I felt to hear such indiscretion in the presence of the queen. Though they did not acknowledge me, either, which seemed rather rude.
My “frailty and folly” did not seem to bother you at the Coronation Ball. I scowled fiercely, thought to clear my throat, but something stopped me. I wanted to hear what else he had to say.
“Lord Elidor, be kind,” Lord Mossgrow said, nervously twisting his snowy mustache. “Or if not, at least be wise. The walls may have ears.”
Lord Elidor lifted a single brow. “What now? Is the half-mortal ‘queen’ weak enough that the very enchantment around this place begins to fail?”
She is not so weak, I thought irritably. But she is standing right here. How odd it was none of them appeared to notice me at all.
The elder fae looked alarmed. “Surely not. But it is risky to assume all the Aos Sith here share your views.”
Elidor laughed, melodious yet sharp as broken glass. “All right then. Who among us is weak enough to accept the rule of a mortal harper’s get, this demi-fae bug?”
Mortal harper? Is that who they believe my father was? Did my mother play the Leannan Sith, drawn to mortals of artistic or musical bent, so she could feed off their skill?
Uncomfortable murmuring rose up among the gathered Sith, things like, “Now you don’t know it was the harper sired Una’s whelp.” “I heard it was a rhymer.” “That’s the same thing, you dolt.”
I gawped at the audacity of it all. Either the gathered Aos Sith were ruder than I even suspected them of being, or there was something more mysterious going on . . .
There came a knock at the door.
Silence fell, heavy as a portcullis. The Aos Sith looked around at each other in alarm.
“You’ve done it now,” one of them said. “Her Majesty has arrived!”
I . . . have been here? My head grew dizzy with confusion. Why were they unaware of my presence?
When the door opened, in came Lileas, buttery hair trailing behind her like a pennant.
Lileas stared at me, or rather through me, holding her hands before her and feeling her way, until she grabbed my shoulders.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it appears that cloak was meant to be worn the other way around after all.”
As she removed my cloak, a gasp went up through the room, and that peculiar belly-flipping sensation inside me vanished.
To turn a garment inside out is to become invisible to the eyes of the fae. I smiled in gratitude towards Lileas as she draped the cloak again about my shoulders, rested my head very briefly against her hand.
“Your Majesty!” Lord Mossgrow was the first to drop to his knees in a deep bow. “Forgive us. We did not know we were in your presence.”
It would not save him. Forgiveness is a human trait, and I was told I must give those up.
“Obviously.” I walked past the Aos Sith, who touched their foreheads—a sign of humility—then their hearts—a sign of loyalty. “I do hope this unsavory speculation over my parentage is at last at an end?”
“Yes, my liege.” “Of course, Your Majesty.” As if that would save them.
I ignored their false obeisance and instead greeted the other assembled would-be council folk in turn.
They were a peculiar lot, some of them. An old hag sneered at me with long green fangs—Jenny Greenteeth, as her name was later given to me.
A goat-legged glaistig stared, and a fachan, with but one eye and one leg, his hand protruding from the center of his torso.
He had no arms, but I gave my hand, and he kissed it.
His greeting left a slimy trail of mucus behind. I hid my disgust and dismay.
They are my people as well. The privilege of my favor will not be restricted to the pretty and highborn. From the corner of my eye, I perceived Lord Elidor and his partisans gaping like fish.
Having made my gauntlet, at last I took my seat.
“Good morning, gentles,” I said. Murmurs of greeting passed around the table, from the fachan’s grunts to the grumbles of the Aos Sith.
Jenny Greenteeth drooled alarming pink spit into her cup.
I had to assume among her kind—if she had a kind—this was considered polite.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Lord Elidor said, with a bow so deep it became obnoxious. “I trust you slept well after last night’s revels—if revels they can be called, without the Dark Fool there to lead them.”
“Lord Elidor,” Mossgrow whispered, then shook his head emphatically.
Elidor at least does not try to hide his mutinous thoughts. Almost I admired him for this.
He smirked and raised his eyebrows. “It is not like the Fool to ignore his ruler’s wishes so thoroughly. One might almost think he doubted your abilities, or perhaps your birth.” His eyes glinted with such hatred as I had never seen before as he hissed out, “Duplicitous whore.”
The air sizzled around us. At the door, my guards tensed, ready to subdue—someone. I hoped it was not me.
Would that I had summoned a cutting remark or witty comeback to this. That my words were like a surgeon’s blade, carving him up with elegant ease.
I slammed my hands upon the table. My chest heaved and my cheeks grew hot.
Tremors shook the ground beneath my feet, and alarm colored the features of those around me.
I breathed deep, forcing my tone to become calm.
No, not calm. Utterly cold. “The Dark Fool may not dare to show his face. Perhaps you, Lord Elidor, should have followed his example.” I straightened slowly, arms outstretched, palms flat and pushing outward.
The blood roared inside me; flame coursed beneath my skin, as if it might pour from my outstretched fingers, but I was too far gone to care.
I pushed, and trees swayed. The dome of sky overhead cracked, rained down debris upon the table. Would-be council members cried out in alarm and pushed themselves away. The ground beneath them rippled; a fissure opened, emitting bubbling magma like a chasm to Hell.
With an immense groan, one of the trees fell over completely, smacking across the table, while weeping fae leapt out of the way.
I did this. It did not fill me with the horror it ought. I meant to. Elidor challenged me. He deserved to feel my power.
The peasant girl inside me grew quiet, uncomplaining, unafraid. What was there to fear anymore?
I was Faery, and Faery was me.
And Faery was in control.
The assembly stared open-mouthed.
I lowered my arms and gentled my expression. No longer need I worry it made me look weak.
“Never mistake your true queen for a powerless insect,” I said quietly. “She is no mayfly, but a wasp with a poisonous sting. The Dark Fool, does he make no appearance before the mortal moon grows full, I will bar from Faery evermore.”
A brief gasp came from Lyel at the doorway, then the room grew silent. I glanced to see how Lord Elidor took my words, but there was no sign of him, save for a long-fingered hand reaching up from the magma one last time.
Is this all it takes to murder a fae? How easy it has become.
Too easy. I could not let him die.
Even as he was sinking lower into the magma, I grabbed hold of Elidor’s hand, pulled him free. He screamed, as unholy a sound as ever I had heard, while his skin blistered and his silvery hair burnt to a crisp. The Aos Sith was not so pretty now.
“One mercy I give only,” I told him. “Never think you shall earn another. Nor are you and your comrades welcome in my presence ever again.” I beckoned Lyel from the doorway, and he and his colleagues escorted Lord Elidor and the rest of the Aos Sith out.
I stroked the thorns encircling my neck and, when they bit me, smiled at the pain.
“I do need to select a council from among your number,” I purred, peering through slitted eyelids. I looked to the remaining fae before me. “If you could each in turn explain how you served my mother or why you think you would be a suitable choice, I would be ever grateful.”
When our business was done, I returned to my chambers to find the Dark Fool sprawled across my bed.